


ME3 - Lacuna

by rprambles



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Amnesia, Angst, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-17
Updated: 2013-03-17
Packaged: 2017-12-05 13:21:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 759
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/723753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rprambles/pseuds/rprambles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post-Destroy oneshot written for the prompt "Remember Me"</p>
            </blockquote>





	ME3 - Lacuna

It was a miracle that she was alive at all.

Found her under a foot of rubble, crushed and burned and caked in blood. Just another casualty of war, the soldiers had thought – until their scans showed a pulse. The doctors at the makeshift hospital had marveled over it, at how a body could take such abuse and survive.

 _Stubborn refusal to die,_ she’d called it. _My best feature._

Her armor was melted to her form, taking skin with it when they pried it off. They had to scrape tissue and dirt off her tags to learn who she was. One call started a chain reaction, a whisper of disbelief and joy. _She’s alive, she’s safe, Shepard is alive._

The Primarch later said he’d never seen someone move as fast as he had when word reached. He honestly didn’t remember running to the make-shift hospital, shoving people out of his way. All he remembered were those words he had started to wonder if he’d ever hear, and seeing her in the room with more tubes and machines than patient, and thanking the Spirits over and over because she was safe and alive and he was pretty sure that was the point he’d broken down and cried, keening in relief.

What he could never forget was when she finally woke up weeks later. Her fingers tightened around his palm, tired green eyes slowly blinked open and focused on him, brow furrowing. That should’ve been his first clue. He wasn’t paying attention, just glad to see her awake. “Hey. Welcome back.”

She squinted at him, voice raspy and dry. “Back?”

“You’ve been unconscious for two months.” He felt his throat tighten at the thought, the waiting and wondering, the whispers of ‘comatose’ and ‘too much damage’. He pushed it to the back of his mind and tried to smile. “Starting to worry about you…” He gripped her hand tight and closed his eyes, tried to breathe. _She’s alright. Spirits, she’s alright._

When he opened his eyes, she was watching him quietly…no, _carefully_ , as though trying to decide if he was friend or foe. His mandibles twitched against his jaw in concern. “Shepard?”

“Who are you?”

The room went still for a moment as they stared at each other. His gut coiled into cold knots. “It’s…it’s Garrus, Shepard,” he finally stammered. “Vakarian.”

There was no recognition in her gaze, only that cool stone gaze that surveyed every battlefield and problem. It felt like a solid wall.

“We met three years ago.” Some part of him recognized desperation in his voice. The rest was too busy trying not to choke on the cold tightness in his chest. “I…I was investigating Saren, it was when you first found out about the Reapers. We…we were…”

His voice died out at the lack of recognition, at the lack of _reaction._ She just watched him as he began to tear at the seams.

“Shepard, please,” he begged.

“Please what?”

He took a shaky breath, trying to hold himself together. “Remember.”

She tilted her head, frown more curious than cautious now. “Remember what?”

He didn’t answer, unsure of what to say, uncertain it was even possible to condense the time they’d had together into a few words.

But maybe…maybe an action would work.

He rose from his seat to lean over her, not surprised when she didn’t shrink away. She never had, always holding her ground with a quiet and unshakable certainty. One of many things he’d admired about her. He stroked a talon through the scruff on her scalp, mandibles twitching in a smile as he imagined what her reaction to that would be, and then gently pressed his forehead to hers for a moment. Just a moment, he told himself, and if that didn’t help her remember…he didn’t know.

He pulled away a little, just enough to gauge her reaction. She blinked once, her gaze sweeping over his face before meeting his. He sighed in defeat and stepped away. Now what? Should he stay and try to think of something else, try to explain it? Would it be better if he just left entirely?

Her grip tightened and he remembered that he was still holding her hand; he blinked, refocusing on her.

“Answer the question.”

He huffed softly. Somehow she still held that commanding air when laid up and covered in bandages. “It’s going to sound crazy,” he said in warning.

“Try me,” she challenged.

Garrus sighed and sat back down. “Alright. Like I said, we met three years ago…”


End file.
